


if not you, than someone else

by TuesdayTerrible



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Drug-AddictEren!, DrugdealerJean!, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marcoisfreckledjesus, NurseLevi!, NursePetra!, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 13:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12410811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuesdayTerrible/pseuds/TuesdayTerrible
Summary: There was probably a time in Jean Kirstein's life where this wouldn't have seemed like an inevitable outcome. Now, he cant tell you when this time would have existed because whenever he does decide to be self- reflective it always seems like it was some predestined thing. Something that was set in stone from the moment  his father's DNA crossed with his mothers.That's not to say he woke up one morning and said “I'm going to be a drug dealer.” Because it's not how it happened. But it almost is that simple.





	if not you, than someone else

**Author's Note:**

> +If drug abuse is by any means triggering to you, please exit this fic immediately. This is not a safe space for you. +
> 
> Otherwise, I've spent an abnormal amount of time on this and I'm still not satisfied. But hopefully someone else out there is.   
> JeanxEren for the win! (seriously though, I love these boys so much- give me all the angst/fluff possible.)

  
There was probably a time in Jean Kirstein's life where this wouldn't have seemed like an inevitable outcome. Now, he cant tell you when this time would have existed because whenever he does decide to be self- reflective it always seems like it was some predestined thing. Something that was set in stone from the moment his father's DNA crossed with his mothers.

That's not to say he woke up one morning and said “I'm going to be a drug dealer.” because it's not how it happened. But it almost is that simple. He remembers coming home early from a track meet to his mother in the kitchen, a robe barely closed on her body and money clenched frustratingly in her hands- the words “it's not enough” hissed between clenched teeth and a tear stained face to a man in the kitchen that Jean did not recognize.

It was that day Jean learned you had to do what you had to do. It's also the day Jean learned he wasn't as much of a coward as he initially thought he was.

So at seventeen years old he decided he was going to start selling drugs. Heroin's just what was most convenient. His father being a cop, -a crooked ex wife beating son of a bitch that Jean would rather strangle than associate with but he refrains- and more than willing to get Jean's foot in the door, for a price of course. So Jean excels in school, does volunteer work at all of the police fundraisers, his charming smart son who just happens to be selling drugs right out of the police locker to fix the financial problems his father left them with to begin with.

He ends up spending a lot of time doing it, at first to meet ends meet, then second to avoid his mother's constant tear stained face, but thirdly and eventually most importantly he realizes he's good at it. And the only thing Jean likes more than the satisfaction of being good at something, is the feeling of his wallet heavy in his pocket.

.

Jean's never had a significant amount of friends. He's always been to blunt and honest for most people to handle, that alone coupled with his extreme awkwardness in trying to establish relationships was just a recipe for disasters. But he did have one, and a couple acquaintances that weren't quite to his standard but perfectly tolerable.

“Jean.” Marco said, and Jean doesn't even have to look up from his book in the library to see that Marco is frowning at him. Marco. That would be the one friend. The equivalent of freckled Jesus, to kind for his own good and yet somehow chose Jean of all people to be-friend. “Are you sure you don't want to try to fix things with Eren?”

It's something about his name that makes Jean's heart clench painfully in his chest. _It's not the loss of him that causes it though._ Jean thinks dully. _Eren's always made his chest ache_. He rolls his shoulders listening to the popping sounds as he turns his gaze to Marco. He hopes he looks like he doesn't care- at the very least- he hopes he doesn't look like he cares as much as he does before he answers. “There's nothing to fix. It was only a matter of time before he found out anyway. And Eren and I, well its not even like we ever got along to begin with.”

“He doesn't want this for you.” Marco says softly. “I cant blame him- I don't either.”  
  
He can hear the inflection in Marco's voice- the things he's not saying. Marco's remembering the fact they've known each other since grade school. He's remembering the fact that Jean and Eren while always at each other's throat only did it to better each other and themselves. He's remembering that the animosity was just childish competition or Connie's definition of 'unresolved sexual tension.' He's remembering Jean's awed “Marco...he's beautiful.” the day Eren's eyes met his across the classroom.

Jean glares at him than. “You know as well as I do it's not like that with him. It's black and white with that kid.” He pauses turning back to his book unable to stop from muttering. “He thinks I'm fucking scum.”

Jean cant admit that it hurts, because admitting that it hurts is to close to admitting that maybe their was something to lose after all. Jean cant admit that it hurts, because admitting that it hurts means maybe, maybe he is doing something wrong.

“I don't understand.” Marco says sighing heavily, the pinnacle of exasperated. “You're perfectly charming to strangers, you can flirt with any girl or guy you want- but the ones you genuinely care for- your a tongue-tied obtuse moron.”

The comment distracts Jean from the lingering ache in his chest and causes him to frown up at Marco. He's not wrong. The boy seldom is where Jean is concerned much to his dismay- but its the response that tumbles to the front of his mouth that makes Jean bite his tongue. It's easy to read and manipulate and persuade people who don't matter. The worse that can happen is they reject him and for everyone that does, there's someone else that wont. Jean has nothing at stake with the random man.

But the ones he wants to care for. The ones like Eren who are passionate and brave. The ones like Mikasa who are silent and strong. The ones like Marco who are kind and sincere. They are the ones that send Jean blushing from his toes to his ears, his tongue a giant floppy impulsive mess in his mouth. Because he wishes more than he's willing to ever admit to, they are the ones he wishes he was more like.

Instead Jean shrugs and Marco drops the subject with a soft squeeze to his shoulder and a side long glance out the window. Sometimes silence speaks louder than words after all.

.

He's exhausted by the time he's ready to start college. He spends so much time out of the house moving product in a means to be able to afford college- because while Jean is smart, apparently not smart enough- and the scholarship he does manage to grab barely makes a dent in the grand scheme of things.

He tells himself that eventually he will be done with this, even though he doesn't hate what he does- because he doesn't and he wants to make that very clear- he's just tired. He's tired of looking over his shoulder, of spending a stupid amount of money- on gas of all things -to make these exchanges. He just wants to lay in bed and re-watch breaking bad and laugh at the inaccuracy until he's able to sleep.

He's managed to obtain an apartment off campus, in a seedy little neighborhood, which is good for business and bad for robbery. He takes his time choosing the perfect spot to hide his things- the ceiling has a loose tile, he's more than capable of making a false bottom in his desk drawer, and he's watched enough movies to know that inside the toilet tank and the freezer are all terrible ideas.

So he does the most logical thing he can think of after he arranges his place to his liking- he gets drunk and trashes it. The morning as he walks through the damage of broken dishware, a shattered vase, his desk in splintered shambles and his mattress over turned- because Jean while not a druggie, he knows of desperation and his house reeks of it- he discovers the closest thing to perfect Jeans going to get.

.

“I cant believe you're a fucking dealer Kirstein.”

“Well sorry I don't have a business card for ya Jaeger- but unless you need anything I suggest you shut your fucking idealistic mouth.”

“The hell I will.” Eren bites out so venomously, he spits. “You're fucking scum ya know that right?”

“If not me than someone else.” Jean responds matter of fact, effectively ending the conversation between Eren and himself.

.

It's late Saturday evening and he's filing paperwork at the police station for his father when he finds out. His fathers cell vibrates across the table before the man grunts and answers more pleasant than he actually ever is Jean thinks bitterly. It isn't until his father mutters a hissed shit, that Jean stops mid file to glance at the man before him. He watches as his father hangs up the phone and presses his palms into his eyes, his shoulders hunched.

There's a long pause before his father turns to him brows furrowed.

“Did you know that Jaeger kid?”

The dread hits Jean's gut so hard and suddenly he sucks in a breath, but otherwise maintains his composure. “Yeah. I know him.” He raises an eyebrow trying desperately to appear uninterested, though he doubts his father notices the effort either way.

His father sighs and he can tell the man is having trouble collecting his thoughts for whatever blow he's about to deliver. “Remember that murder about six months back.” his father says.

“Yeah.” Jean says relaxing now. Perhaps Eren had done some intern thing working in forensics. He hadn't seen him in any of his college classes but had assumed that was because he was off travelling the bloody world with Mikasa. Maybe he just went somewhere else. He shrugs the thought off completely focusing on the conversation at hand. “It was pretty big. That grotesque smile painted in blood on the wall. Never found the guy.”

“Well.” his father says, clearing his throat. “He's back. Carla Jaeger was just murdered and her sons in critical condition in Trost. I have to be there when he wakes up to collect a statement. Shit. You can finish up doctoring the reports before ya take what ya need right?”

The gears in Jean's brain slow to a complete stop, auto-pilot taking over. “Yeah. I've got it. Ill lock up.”

His father gives him a once over before grunting his goodbyes and Jean manages to wait til he leaves before he's frantically patting his backpack for his pack of smokes which in retrospect is a terrible idea because Jean's gold-fishing giant breaths of air and his hands are shaking- and to top it all off he cant get his fucking lighter to work.

He's trembling when he calls Marco, and Marco listens as Jean frantically relays the information, his voice cracking so badly he's unsure if Marco understands.

“Out of all the people in the world.” Jean manages, his lighter finally, finally working. “it shouldn't have happened to him.”

“What can I do?” Marco asks quietly, but doesn't press as Jean exhales a puff of smoke. The tears on Jean's face are cold, he realizes as he wipes them away with a palm, unaware he'd even been crying.

“Can you go?” Jean whispers. “Can you be there....because I..I cant be there- so can you...can you....”

He's not even sure what he's asking, but apparently Marco does because he responds quietly almost immediately.

“I can.” Marco says.

.

He's in psych 101, his second semester when he notices the brunet sitting in front of him. He'd know that slender build and dark mess of hair anywhere. The boy before him doesn't have to turn around for Jean to know a pair of green eyes would meet his. Eren is unmistakable, even if he isn't sitting as straight as he use to.

It's been a long time since Jean's seen Eren Jaeger, but it's only been three and a half months since his mother murder- her killer never found. The knot that forms in his throat hurts and he turns his attention back to the teachers. Jean's never been good at comforting anyone. He fails at the relationship things that matter- he knows better than to try. Still his chest aches and he ends up snapping his pencil twice in frustration.

When class lets out, Eren bee lines for the exit and Jean's never been more grateful in his entire life he does. It allows him to collect his things and his thoughts and gives an opportunity for the knot in his throat to go down, the ache in chest to unclench enough that breathing doesn't seem like a painful feat.

So when he walks out the door hes completely surprised to find, slender shaking fingers grasping his forearm and pulling him to the side.

“You still sell?” His voice is quick, biting. But his eyes don't match the tone and it leaves Jean a little startled.

“yeah..” Jean replies dumbly because what else can he say. He has tuition and an apartment and _one day it'll end._...  
“why?”   
  
“You know why.” Eren says gnawing on his lower lip. And Jean does know why.

“That's not you.” Jean says, the words spilling out of him before he has the chance to stop them, his voice coming out softer and more intimate than he would like. _Stupid floppy worthless tongue_.

“It _wasn't_  me.” Eren says eyes hard. “You going to sell to me or not?”

“And if I don't?”

“If not you than someone else.”

The smile Eren gives him is a sad twisted little thing that makes his ribs rattle and his gut clench.

.

Jean sells to Eren because _why not_ ? If not him than its just going to be someone else so why shouldn't he profit off of Eren's grief?

//Because Eren's not doing this to get high. Eren's not doing this because he wants to try it, or be cool, or anything as vain or shallow as most of the clients he keeps. No...Eren is trying to erase something terrible if only for a day, an hour, a minute at a time. He's just trying to function.//

Jean thinks he understands a little better why Eren was quick to call him scum.

//The truth is he just wants to help him and he'll take what he can get//

.

Marco stares towards Jean as his hand twitches against the paper obscuring his seven, his other hand pressing deep into his eyes.

“Jean.” He says quietly. “Hey- are you okay?”

You see the thing about being a dealer is sometimes clients want you to do the shit to make sure they arent being screwed over. Jean hasn't had to do it very often, but sometimes when he sells a big amount and he has to go deep into the city- these types of exchanges are expected. He's not sure /how/ he's able to over-come it, since all the horror stories are it only takes /one time/ and this is Jeans third time- but he manages.

He has no choice but to manage.

Still. His body always feels sick and twitchy afterwards. It remembers the rush of pleasure- the temporary peace. The ability to sleep no longer a memory but an actuality. So yeah, he wants it. Of course he fucking wants it. But he knows better. There's no profit to be made if he shoots up his own merchandise. There's not enough heroin in the world to keep that good feeling going. Jean's a realist.

So he deals. It just sucks.

“Yeah.” he says, and his mouth feels dry and his head hurts and god the nauseous feeling in his gut is persistent this time. But he knows in another few days it will be a memory. “Yeah I'm fine.”

.  
He comes home after a particular shitty day at school to find his door slightly ajar. It's not even panic that floods through his veins it's more like annoyance. He knows whomever tried to rob him was unsuccessful, they're always unsuccessful- fucking morons. But he's not in the mood to deal with the mess. He sighs as he opens the door and finds that his house- isn't- a mess and the person sprawled across his floor unconscious in his own vomit is none other than Eren mother-fucking Jaeger.

“You mother-fucking suicidal bastard.” He screams thrusting Eren onto his back, vomit coating his fingers and staining Eren's skin as he fumbles for a pulse. He finds one slow beneath his fingertips and he nearly sobs when Eren gives a weak little cough pressing his cheek back into his vomit with a soft squelch.

He sits there in a stunned sort of haze, vomit absorbing into his shoes and his fingerprints and he finds himself muttering, to Eren maybe, but maybe not- maybe to no one particular- “This isn't my life.”

.  
Jean keeps a log, which is totally incriminating and stupid in retrospect, but, he likes to be thorough. It's his little black book if you will.

It tells who he's sold to, when he's started selling to them, how much he's sold to them, how much money they've paid, and how many times they've bought from him.   
  
Essentially whatever you need to know is there- and no one can get over on Jean with it all written in his unmistakable loopy penmanship. It's Eren's name he hovers over now, three tallys by his name, each of the dates bullet-ed underneath of it.

He remembers each one with a sort of stabbing pain that makes the ache Eren usually causes in his chest, seem like a paper cut. He remembers the first being in the library right after psych. He remembers the way Eren's hand ghosted over his as they shook hand- a small plastic bag buffering the contact between their palms. He remembers that the look in those green eyes didn't match the smile on his face. He remembers he had to wash his guilt down with copious amounts alcohol that night for reasons he didn't quite understand.

He remembers the second being outside the gas station as Jean was filling up. Eren, seemingly out of no where had just plopped into his passenger seat. “I was coming to you.” Jean had muttered and Eren had responded with a shrug, a lazy smile on his face, already two sheets to the wind. “Couldn't wait.”

It's the final time though, that still stands in Jean's mind. The one where he had told him “You're was higher than a god damn kite Jaeger, go the fuck home.” It was when Eren had looked at him with his lower lip trembling and his voice cracking with the tears Jean knew he wasn't going to shed. “I cant go home anymore Kirstien. Don't make me go home.”

He would have given him all he had and then some if he didn't have to see Eren Jaeger like this again. He would have given him everything if he didn't think it would kill the man before him. So instead he invited him in and gave him his usual and watched as he chased the dragon right off the coffee table in his living room.

Jean had thought so, he wouldn't allow himself to forget, so as he stares towards Eren, whom is looking at him and scratching his forearm- he's know's he cant add another tally to Eren's name.

“So ya gonna give me the stuff or not man? Got places to be.”

“No.” Jean says his voice cracking. He's surprised at the reason behind it. But he knows what no means.

“No?” Eren looks at him, eyebrows raised as if he cant believe he's hearing the words. “You know I can just...”

“Yes.” Jean says cutting him off. “Yes you can and there's not a piece of me that thinks you wont.”

Eren stares at him, hard then, like he's trying to pull one over on him. “Why.”

“It cant be me.” Jean says, a strangled laugh escaping his mouth before he can think better of it. “ _I cant know I helped you do this to yourself_.”

Eren doesn't say anything else, just shuts the door so hard on his way out that the sounds shakes Jean's bones.

.

Jean meets Marco at a cafe just outside of the college. Jean is frustrated because Eren is still at his apartment, has been at his apartment on and off for close to a month now and it's wearing on Jean in a way he cant explain. It's not the vomiting all over his crap carpet, or the clawing at his own skin until he bleeds, or the screaming in his sleep, or the constant chaos that kills him. Eren's always been a force of nature- why wouldn't his destruction be to?

It's the crying that sets Jean's nerve on end. It's the tear stained cheeks that remind him of his mother, and broken green blue eyes that use to glow and now barely even flicker. It's the _Jean it hurts please,_ and the disappearing and reappearing and the sometimes he finds shit from his house missing and he knows why.

Eren's system must be flooded with so many drugs, it has to be a cocktail for disaster. He's not even sure what the boys doing any more- or how many things he's doing either.

“Jean.” Marco says laying a comforting hand over Jean's. Jean wonders if he's been trying to get his attention long  
.   
“Sorry, man.” He says and he means it. “Just, got a drop to make down town today and my heads not in this. Eren's just...”

/Erens just in such terrible shape I cant think about anything else./

The silence of the words unsaid weigh heavy in the air between them.

“You...don't have to do this.” Marco says quietly, and also completely unlike Marco.

“Yeah I do.” Jean says. “His fathers disowned him and...”

Eren doesn't like to talk about Mikasa and Armin.

“and I didn't help matters. Maybe cleaning up his puke will clean up my conscious I don't know.” Jean mutters.

“You know you didn't do this Jean.” Marco says softly. “This- this isn't your fault you know, he was already on things before enrolling.”

He doesn't ask how Marco knows- but Marco wouldn't lie to him to make him feel better. Strangely, the guilt is not alleviated. Jean just sighs deeply, shoulders sagging.

“I cant...let him go.” Jean says finally. Because that is the shortest, simplest, truth.

“I know.” Marco says squeezing his hand softly. “I'll do the drop for you ...if you need the day Im sure I can manage it.”

Jean trusts Marco more than he trusts himself, so when he says _yeah man, I appreciate it_. He doesn't realize what he's just done.

.  
  
Eren's bent over the toilet bowl puking his guts up when Jean decides nows as good a time as any. He runs his hand through his hair as he watches Eren rest his cheek against the porcelain throne, eyes closed and body limp.

“Why here Jaeger?”

It takes him a minute before Eren opens his eyes to look at him, takes even longer for him to respond. “...why...not.” He manages before heaving into the toilet again.

“You know what I mean...where's Armin? Where's Mikasa for gods sake?”

It's the look on his face that makes Jean want to swallow the words, even though he's sure he's done worse. It's the fact that it takes so little to break someone who use to be as un-moving and as solid as himself. Now the man he use to l- no not love- admire, definitely admire- can barely hold himself out of the toilet bowl.

“Jesus Eren what happened to you?” the words come out anyway in a hushed whisper, despite his desire to stop them.  
“Stole....Armins grandfathers watch.” Eren mumbles voice thick and hoarse from vomiting, and when Jean sees his shoulders heave and his hands tremble against the floor, he knows its not from nausea. “Sold...mom's..wedding...ring.”

He doesn't even have enough time to be disappointed, or even repulsed before Eren's hyperventilating- head hitting the floor as he gasps, and gasps and gasps for breath- limbs twitching and shaking sporadically completely against his will. But the most mortifying thing about it is the tears that keep steadily pouring down his face.

Jean will never, ever get use to the sight of Eren crying.

.  
He's called Marco 17 times before he finally gets an answer from Mina.

“Did you put him up to this?” She hisses, the sound of a door closing behind her.

Jean is immediately confused. Marco would have never given her his phone let alone informed her about Jean's life. Mina and Marco had only recently started talking the last couple months in their English Lit class and Jean frowns pulling his phone away from his cheek to make sure he got the number right.

He did.

“Why...do you have Marco's phone?” Jean asks dumbly, his people charming skills being short-circuited by the absurdness of it all.

“I didn't.” She hisses again, all clenched teeth and barely repressed rage. “His mother just gave it to me because you wouldn't stop calling.” She pauses for a moment before letting out a sigh. “She thinks you did this you know? We all think you did this.”

“Did what?” Jean asks as he climbs up the stairs to his apartment, his agitation growing. “I was suppose to meet Marco for dinner like an hour ago. Never showed.” He opens the door and gives Eren a nod as he closes it behind him. “Not like him, so yeah, I was blowing him up. I didn't do anything to him.”

“You don't know.” Mina says suddenly her voice quiet and he can tell from her uneven breathing she cant determine how she wants to respond to Jean. “Marco was jumped Jean. He has some broken ribs and internal bleeding and....they they just don't know if he's going to make it.”

I must look bad. Jean thinks. Because Eren is off of the couch standing in front of him, hands digging into his biceps. He thinks maybe he's shaking him. He's not sure. He's not sure where the phone went. All he hears is this high pitch ringing in his ears like someone just shot a gun way to close to his head.   
  
And than...

“Jean!”

“Jean!”

“Jean!”

He stares towards Eren before him, blinking slowly. Eren doesn't call him by his first name. The anger hits him like a freight train as he pushes Eren off of him. The fact that he is shaking as he does so is not lost on either of them.

“Don't fucking touch me!” Jean shouts running a hand through his hair. He wants to be mad at Eren. He wants to blame him for coming in and complicating his already abnormal life. He wants to blame Eren for what happened to Marco- He wants to- wants to hate him. But he cant. Because it's not Eren's fault at all. It's Jean's. Jean's the no life fucking loser who obsession over a drug addict and sent his best friend, the epitome of all that is good in the fucking world, into the seediest of places down town.

That beating should have been his. It should have been his. It should have been _his._

His eyes must reflect something Eren knows to well because he moves towards Jean again. But this time Jean's faster, bolting into his bedroom and shutting the door. And somehow Eren knows what Jean is going to do even before he does and he's beating at Jean's locked door, the thump thump thump covering the sound of Jeans bed moving across the floor.  
The thump thump thump, covers the sound of Jean ripping a corner of the carpet up, moving a false floor board, and pulling up a tiny safe. The pounding at the door stops, but only for a moment, as Jean removes all of the heroin from its container.

“Kierstein. Kierstein. Jean.” Eren's pounding resumes more vigorously than before. “Hey! Hey! Dont do it you dumb fuck!”

_It's to late_ Jean thinks but doesn't say, as he leans his head back against the bed. He vaguely wishes he had grabbed different merchandise and had different supplies, injecting it would be faster. He's vaguely aware of the door handle jiggling in a rather violent way and as his eyes start to glaze over, he finds himself watching in mild fascination. What was the idiot even worried for? He feels much better now.

His head lulls forward rocking, and than falling against the side of the bed. He wonders vaguely when it got so heavy.

Jean's not sure how much time passes before Eren breaks his door in. He looks like a different man standing in his door frame door barely on its hinges. His eyes are angry and full of fire, and he's reminded of a Eren he hasn't seen in a while. He moves to tell him so but Eren's already cursing going through his safe and holding up the plastic bag on the floor. “How fucking much?” Eren screams in his face. He looks nervous, and his fingers are on Jean's neck fumbling as if they're' looking for something.

Jean wants to tell him he's not sure hes going to find it. Instead, he laughs, but it hurts somehow “was always wondering how to get ya to touch me.”. And his head lulls forward again, so god damn heavy. “Eren.” He says as Eren holds his head between two palms, green eyes staring into his so present Jean is awed. “Where have you been?”

“Keep your head up Jesus christ Jean, don't go to sleep. Dont you dare go to sleep okay?”

“M'tired.”

“Jean how much did you take? Come on man, don't do this to me.”

“Missed you Eren.” He says earnestly and it feels like somethings lightened though he cant tell you exactly what. He feels his body jerk, unpleasantly, and he thinks he may be drooling but before he can ask- the darkness closes in around him like a blanket.

He doesn't really mind though. It's been a while since he's had some decent sleep .

.

“Mom. Stop.” His voice cracks despite the fact he's trying to squash his anger. He feels like he could crush the phone with as tightly as he's holding it, and he has to count to ten before he can speak again. “It's fine. Dont come. Do you hear me. Do. Not. Come.”

He hangs up the phone and pockets it with shaking fingers before he can throw it across the room at the wall. Eren stares at him for a good long while from his space on the couch, his eyes glazed but for once he's not looking through Jean but at him. Jean can tell he's debating saying something, and he wishes for once- just once- Eren would keep his mouth shut.

“You shouldn't talk to your mom like that.”

“You arent really in a position to tell anyone what to do with their mother are you Jaeger?”

The minute the words slip out, Jean wants to eat them.

“Shit Eren.” Jean says the apology tumbling out just as sloppily as his insensitivity. “I'm so fucking sorry. My god damn mouth. I'm sorry I ..”

But Eren doesn't say anything. He doesn't yell or cry or move to hit him, he doesn't do anything and that makes it worse. It's nearly two minutes later when Eren finally says something his voice sad and distant.  
  
“I fought with her, before it happened.” Eren says softly. “She pulled us into the closet in her room and put her hand over my mouth. She said, “We don't need to be a hero Eren.” But I couldn't listen. I could never fucking listen. One thing she asked me for. _One thing_.” His voice hitches at the end, cracking unevenly. Jean thinks, with a dull aching horror, that this is where the tears will come. Except they don't, Eren just continues. “She pleaded with him.” His voice going shrill. “Not my son, just not my son.”

Eren takes his shirt off than, and the _smile_ that's cut into his stomach makes Jean flinch. But Eren's not so much telling his story as he is reliving it. He's reliving this horror and Jean is watching it play across his face like a bad movie that he just wants to end. He just wants to roll Eren's shirt back down and beg him to stop. That he's fucking sorry. But he cant seem to stop the train wreck that is unraveling before his eyes.

“It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. All I could feel was the pain.” Eren's takes in a shaky breath. “Until I couldn't feel anything any more. I was there. But I wasn't. I couldn't...I couldn't move. I could barely think. My vision started going dark and he was moving towards my mom and I knew..I knew.... what he was going to do and all I could get out was “wait. no.” and I remember thinking, I remember thinking _I cant just leave her_.”

Eren takes a shaky breath, and now, finally the tears are falling down his face and he rubs them away absently with the back of his hand, a laugh forming in the back of his throat. “The last thing I heard before I blacked out was her. “I love you, you hear me? Stay alive.”

Jean doesn't say anything for a minute, because what do you say to something like that? What do you do for someone who has witnessed something like that? Who has scars cut not only on into their chest and abdomen but their mind? Jean, for once in his life, has nothing.

“I never even told her I loved her.” Eren says. “I cant even remember the last time I told her I loved her. I was a shitty son. I'm _still_ a shitty son.”

Jean wants to hold him. He wants to wrap his arms around him, and tell him the lie that everything will be alright. He wants to say them enough until he starts to believe them himself. He wants to run fingers through his hair and never let him go. He wants to tell him that hed do anything to fix this. He'd do anything if he could keep the tears off Eren's face. That if their was a cost for his mothers life- he would pay it, 10, 1000 times over. He wants to say how bloody sorry he is. And that he _knows_ \- she had to have known how much Eren loves her.

He doesn't do anything of those things.

In the end, Eren ends up walking out the front door without so much as a goodbye and- Jean calls his mom and tells her that he's coming home for dinner, if that's okay. And he's missed her too. And that he's sorry.

Because Jean thinks with a heavy heart. _I'm not a good son either._

.  
  
Jean wakes up in a hospital and is immediately confused. He's not sure how he got here and he feels like death warmed over. In fact he's sure death warmed over feels better than this. His head is funny and his mouth is dry and all he wants in life is a glass of water.

They tell Jean that he over-dosed. That his fathers been by, and so has his mother- and that a nice young boy brought him but didn't stick around much after that. They tell him that they can give him suboxone to help ween him off his addiction to heroin. That recovery will be hard but manageable. They give him pamphlets and tell him he needs to stay for observation, and that he'll be released pending a mental evaluation in the morning.

Jean nods to all of these things because he doesn't feel like talking until he sees this one nurse, and he grabs her forearm instinctively. “Miss?” He says hopeful, his vocal chords scraping together unpleasantly.

“Petra.” She says smiling politely.

“There was a boy here. I...I don't know how many days ago. Not many. One...two, maybe? Marco. His name is Marco Bodt. He was hurt pretty badly. Is he still here? Is he okay? He's my best friend. Please. Can you?”

“I'll see what I can do.” And when Jean drifts off to sleep not even five minutes later- he believes her.

-  
When he wakes, he knows its night but even though all the lights are off in his room, the light spills out from the ever busy hallway as two nurses stand outside the door voices hushed and yet somehow still so loud in the silence of the room.

“How am I suppose to tell him that his friend died this morning?”

“You don't. Patient confidentiality. Tell him you simply couldn't find out.”

“It's wrong.” Petra whispers. “It's so wrong Levi.”

“It's not us to decide whats right or wrong. We simply do what we have to. He'll find out on his own. He doesn't need to hear it from us.”

Jean thinks, tears pouring down his face- It doesn't matter who he heard it from, it wouldn't change the fact that he's the reason Marco is dead.

.  
The next time Eren sees Jean, he punches him in the mouth. It's a good solid hit to, splits his lip right open.

“I thought I was going to lose you too.”

Jean wants to make a comment about how Eren never had him to begin with. But he always was a terrible liar when it came to those he loved and admired. And he's always, always felt both for Eren as long as he can remember.

“Im not going anywhere.”

And he's not, because what life he has left- he owes to Marco.

“I'm tired of losing people.” Eren says finally wrapping his arms around Jeans waste and pushing his head uncomfortably into his clavicle. Jean doesn't mind, not really.

“Yeah. Me too.”

.

It's a few months later when Mikasa approaches him.

It's strange to see her, after so much time, and his heart beats quicken just a little like it always has. Except this time, it's because of Eren and the question he wants to ask that's rushing to the tip of his tongue at the sight of her. Still she inspires a sort of fear he's never truly been able to process and a type of envy he is. She doesn't say anything at first, just gracefully takes a seat beside him, and Jean manages to keep his mouth shut by some higher powers good graces.

“He got his life together because of you.” Mikasa says finally, thin small (yet dangerously quick) hands wrap around his forearm as she rises to a stand and presses a kiss to his temple. “Thank you.”

When he finds his words “-I didnt do anything.” is what comes out.

And no one is around to hear them.

He wonders vaguely if he ever said them at all.

.  
“She thinks i'm the reason you sobered up.” Jean says with a laugh, pushing a meatball idly on his plate. It's the silence that follows that causes him to look up.

“Of course you are.” Eren says softly. “Your reaction to Marco...I thought...” he licks his lips then. “You put in perspective what I was doing to everyone else. You gave me a taste of my own medicine. I...didnt like it. And...if you....I wanted to be good for you. So if....so I could be there.”

Jean doesn't think he's ever seen Eren really blush before.

“Y-you're ad-adorable.” Jean spits out abruptly, face burning.

Stupid. Worthless. Tongue.

Please kill me.

Strike me down

Turn invisible in the next five seconds...Jean- if you just focus you can....

“So are you.” Eren says simply, a kind crooked smile and flirty eyes.

And Jean thinks, maybe- maybe in Eren speak he's saying I love you too.


End file.
